1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14the best of all things to an end must come